Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A34548
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Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich
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Corbet, Richard, 1582-1635.
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1647
(1647)
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Wing C6270; ESTC R210115
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25,063
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60
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those That feast them onely to enclose Or with their Roastmeat rack their â—â—â—â—â— And cousen them with their 〈…〉 consents No the free meeting of his board Did but one liberall sense afford No Close or Aker understood But onely love and neighbourhood His Almes were such as Paul defines Nor causes to be said but â—â—â—â—â—â— Which Almes by faith hope love laid downe I ayd up what now he weaâ—… a Crowne Besides his fame his goods his life He left a griev'd sonne and wife Strange sorrow scarce to be bâ—leev'd When as a sonne and heire is griev'd R. Corbet On the death of Master Rice Manciple of Christ-Church WHo can doubt Rice to what eternall place Thy soule is fled that did but know thy face Whose body was so light it might have gone To heaven without a resurrection Indeed thoâ—… wert all Type thy limbes were signes Thy Arteries but Mathematick lines As iâ—… two soules had made the compound good Which both should live by faith and none by blood R. C. To his sonne Vincent Corbet WHat I shall leave thee none can tell But all shall say I wish thee well I wish thee Vin before all wealth Both bodily and ghostly health Nor too much wealth nor wit come to thee So much of either may undoe thee I wish thee learning not for show Enough for to instruct and know Not such as Gentlemen require To prate at Table or at Fire I wish thee all thy mothers graces Thy fathers fortunes and his places I wish thee friends and one'at Couâ—…t Not to build on but support To keepe thee not in doing many Oppressions but from suffering any I wish thee pâ—…ace in all thy wayâ—… Nor Lazy nor contentious dayâ—…s And when thy soule and body part As innocent as now thou aâ—… R. C. An Elegy on the late Lord William Howard Baron of Effingham dead the 10. of December 1615. I Did not know thee Lord nor doe I strive To winne accesse or grace with Lords alive The dead I serve from whence nor faction can Move me nor favour nor a greater man To whom no vice commends me nor bribe sent Frâ—… whom no Penance warnes nor portion spent To these I dedicate as much of me As I can spare from my owne husbandry And till Ghosts walke as they were wont to doe I trade for some and doe these errants too But first I doe enquire and am assur'd What tryals in their Journeys they endur'd What certainties of Honour and of worth Their most uncertaine Life times have brought forth And who so did least hurt of this small store He is my patron dy'd he rich or poore First I will know of Fame after his peace When Flattery and Envy both doe cease Who rulâ—…d his actions Reason or my Lord Did the whole man relie upon a word A badge of Title or above all chance Seem'd he as Ancient as his Cognisance What did he Acts of mercy and refraine Oppreâ—…ions in himselfe and in his Traine Was his essentiall table full as free As boasts and invitations use to be Where if his Russet-friend did chance to dine Whether his Satten-man would fill him wine Did he thinke perjury as lovâ—…d a sinne Himselfe for sworne as is his slave had beene Did he seeke regular pleasures was he knowne Just Husband of one Wife and she his owne Did he give freely without pâ—…use or doubt And read petitions ere they were worne out Or should his well-deserving Client aske Would he bestow a Tilting or a Maske To keepe need vertuous And that done not feare What Lady damn'd him for his absence there Did he attend the Court for no mans fall Wore he the ruine of no Hospitall And when he did his rich apparell don Put he no Widow nor an Orphan on Did he love simple vertue for the thing The King for no respect but for the King But above all did his Religion wait Upon Gods Throne or on the Chaire of state He that is guiltie of no Quaere here Our-lasts his Epitaph our-lives his Heire But there is none such none so little bad Who but this negative goodnesse ever had Of such a Lord we may expect the birth He 's rather in the wombe than on the earth And 't were a Crime in such a publike fate For one to live well and degenerate And therefore I am angry when a name Comes to upbraid the World like Eâ—…ingham Nor was it modest in thee to de part To thy eternall home where now thou art Ere thy reproach was ready or to dye Ere custome had prepar'd thy calumny Eight dayes have past since thou hast paid thy debt To sinne and not a libell stirring yet Courtiers that scoffe by Patent silent sit And have no use of Slander or of wit But which is monstrous though against the tide The Water-men have neither rayld nor lide Of good and bad there 's no distinction knowne For in thy praise the good and bad are one It seemes we all are coverous of Fame And hearing what a purchase of good name Thou lately mad'st are carefull to increase Our title by the holding of some lease From thee our Land-lord and for that th' whole câ—…ue Speake now like Tenants ready to renew It were too sad to tell thy pedegâ—…ee Death hath disordered all misplacing thee Whilst now thy Herauld in his line of heires Blots out thy name and fils the space with teares And thus hath conqu'ring death or nature rather Made thee prepostrous ancient to thy Father Who grieves th' art sâ—… and like a glorious light Shines ore thy Hâ—…arse He therefore that would write And blaze thee throughly may at once say all Here lies the Anchor of our Admirall Let others write for glory or reward Truth is well paid when the is sung and heard R. Corbet An Epitaph on Doctor Donne Deane of Pauls HE that would write an Epitaph for thee And doe it well must â—…st begin to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to huâ—…le downe Enough to keepe the Gallams of the Towne He must have learning plenty both the Laws Civill and Common to judge any cause Divinitie great store above the rest Not of the last Edition but the best He must have language â—…ravaile all the Arts Judgement to use or else hee wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to doe Such as Mecanâ—…s and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vaine descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let 't alone for me R. Corbet Upon Mistris Mallet HAve I renounc'd my faith or basely sold Salvation or my loyalty for gold Have I some foâ—… in practice undertooke By poyson shot sharpe knife or sharper looke To kill my King have I beâ—…ay'd the State To fire or fury or some newer fate Which learn'd murtherers
love On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit Was to erect a Pyramis of Jeaâ—… And put out fire to dig a curse from hell And place it where a blessed soule should dwell A soule which in the body would not stay When 't was no more a body nor good clay But a high ulcer O thou heavenly race Thou soule which 〈…〉 â—…tion of thy case Thy house thy prison Soule 〈…〉 faire Rest where no health no cold noâ—… compounds are Rest in that Country and enjoy that case Which thy fraile flesh divides and thy disease R. Corbet A proper new Ballad intituled The Fairies farewel or God a mercy Will to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune FArewell rewards and Fairies Good housewives now may say For now sowle sluts in Dairies Do fare as well as they And though they sweepe their hearths no lesse Then maides were wont to doe Yet who of late for cleanlinesse Findes Six pence in her shooe Lament lament old Abbies The Fairies lost command They did but change Priests babies But some have chang'd your land And all your children stolne from thence Are now growne puritanes Who live as changelings ever since For love of your demaines At morning and at evening both You merry were and glad So little care of sleepe and sloath These pretty Ladies had When Tom came home from labour Or Cisse to milking Rose Then merrily went their Tabor And nimbly went their Toes Witnesse those rings and rounde layes Of theirs which yet remaine Were sooted in Queene Maries dayes On many a grassy plaine But since of late Elizabeth And later James came in They never daunc'd on any heath As when the time had beene By which we nore the Fairies Were of the old profession Their Songs were Ave Maries Their daunces were procession But now alas they all are dead Or gone beyond the Seas Or further from Religion fled Or else they take their case A tell-tale in their company They never could endtire And who so kept not secretly Their mirth was punisht sure It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blew O how the Common-wealth doth need Such Iustices as you Now they have left our Quarters A Register they have Who can preserve their Charters A Man both wise and grave A hundred of their merry pranks By one â—…hat I could name Are kept in store con twenty thank To William for the same To William Churne of Staffordshire Give laud and praises due Who every meale can mend your cheere With Tales both old and true To William all give audience And pray you for his Noddle For all the Fairies evidence Were lost if it were addle To the Ghost of Rob. Wisdome THou once a Body now but ayre Arch-botcher of a Psalme or Prayer From Carfaux come And paâ—…h us up a zealous Lay With an old Aver and for aye Or all and some Or such a Spirit lend me As may a Hymn down send me To purge my brain So Robert look behinde thee Lest Turk or Pope doe finde thee And goe to bed again An Epitaph on Tho. Jonce HEre for the nonce Came Thomas Jonce In St. Jileses Church to lye None Welch before None Welshman more Till Shon Clerk dye I le role the Bell I le ring his Knell He dyed well He 's saved from Hell And so farewell Tom Jonce On the Earl of Dorsets Death LEt no prophane ignoble soot tread here This hallowed piece of Earth Dorset lyes there A small poor Relique of a Noble spirit Free as the Alre and ample as his Merit A soul refin'd no proud forgetting Lord But mindfull of mean names and of his word Who lov'd men for his Honour not his ends And had the noblest way of getting friends By loving first and yet who knew the Court But understood it better by report Then practise He nothing took from thence But the Kings favour for his recompence Who for Religion or his Countreys good Neither his Honour valued nor his blood Rich in the worlds opinion and mens praise And full in all we could desire but dayes He that is warn'd of this and shall for beare To vent a sigh for him or shed a teare May he live long scorn'd and unpitied fall And want a Mourner at his Funerall R. Corbet On Henry Bolings IF gentlenesse could tame the Fates or wiâ—… Deliver man Bolings had not dyed yet But one which over us in judgement sits Doth say our sins are stronger then our wiâ—… R. Corbet The Authors Answer SO to deâ—…d Hector boyes may doe disgrace That durst not look upon his living face So worst of men behinde their betters back May stretch mens names and credit on the rack Good friend our generall tye to him that 's gone Should love the man that yearly doth him mone The Authors zeale and place he now doth hold His love and duty makes him be thus bold To offer this poor mite his Anniverse Unto his good great Masters scared Herse The which he doth with priviledge of name Whilst others 'midst their Ale in Corners blame A penny-worth in Print they never made Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade One Anniverse when thou hast done thus twice Thy words among the best will be of Price Dr. Price A Reply NOr is it griev'd grave Youth the memorie Of such a Story such a Book as he That such a Copy through the world were read Henry yet lives though he be buryed I could be wisht that every day could beare Him our good witnesse that he still were here That sorrow râ—…l'd the yeare and by that sun Such Man could tell you how the day had run O'twere an honest cause for him could say I have been busie and wept out the day Remembring him an Epitaph would last Were such a Trophee such a Banner plac't Upon his Herse as this Here a man lyes Was slain by Henry's date not Destinies But for a Cobler to throw up his Cap And cry The Prince the Prince O dire mishap Or a 〈…〉 Bridegroom after grace To throw his Spouse i' th fire or scratch her face To the tune o' th' Lamentation and delay His Friday Capon till the Sabbath-day Or an old Popish Lady half vow'd dead To fast away the day with Ginger-bread For him to write such Annalls All these things Doe open laughter and shut up griefs springs Wherefore Vertummâ—… if you Print the next Bring better votes or choose a meaner Text R. Corbet FINIS